It had been six weeks or more. I had stopped counting, utterly puzzled as to why I hadn’t seen him. Oh, he was still in touch, pawing at me occasionally like a lazy cat with a mouse. I wanted him so much I had stopped seeing anyone else.
Well, almost. They didn’t come close though.
He was- without doubt- the first one in a long time I had completely lost my head over.
I had an hour to get ready. He’d mentioned he liked suspenders so they were on. I changed my dress to a lower cut one. I lit a fire and threw about 5 logs on there so I wouldn’t have to fiddle with it. The time flew by and soon he was at the door.
He kisses me before I have chance to close the front door. I melt. This man. Why? He stops to take off his shoes and looks at the Christmas tree, then catches sight of the fire. “My hands are freezing” he says and I draw him closer – he says he’s never seen an open fire before in someone’s house. I have impressed him already. Woman make fire.
We sit on the sofa, and as before we chat about stuff and I hold his freezing hands to warm them up. His hand then rests on my knee and he realises I am wearing stockings, but pretends he hasn’t seen them. His lips brush my ear, my neck and I shiver.
What is it about him? Is it his eyes? His hair? His gentle voice which drives me crazy? Is it his soft touch on my neck? Am I in love with him or is it just a crush?
He starts to kiss me properly, teasing me, biting my bottom lip. His hands run over my thighs and grab a breast, then move away. His head nestles into my shoulder and we hold hands – the same as each time we’ve met.
We talk a little more and then he becomes rougher with me. We kiss and I turn towards him, lifting my ass slightly to move closer. His fingers cup it and he pokes my cunt through my knickers. I am wet. I move to straddle him and he asks for my tongue. He sucks and twists it, I grab the back of his neck, he holds my throat.
I’m grinding on him, I can feel his erection through his pants and his trousers. He pulls out my breast from my bra and sucks it, biting the nipple. How does he know that this is exactly what I want?
“Shall we go upstairs?” I whisper.